


The Elements of Life

by oh_no_melon



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: All the topics that may be difficult to talk about, F/M, M/M, Prejudice, Racism, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Step by step - Freeform, Tags will change as the story grows, Violence on androids, What it takes to be human, becoming human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-05-21 06:41:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14910308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_no_melon/pseuds/oh_no_melon
Summary: Connor learns what it takes to live his life. It's not easy, it's not always good, but he wouldn't change it for the world.





	1. Epilogue from a Prologue

The first six months after the last stand of the android revolution were taxing but necessary; the entire nation had to undergo a change it hadn't seen since its first Civil War and the demands were just as important. Simple in nature, the key demand was equality. That should have been the easiest part of any of the negotiations yet it seemed to be the last one any leader wished to speak on. They focused on the problems that could potentially happen before any owed rights could be spoken of. This infuriated Markus whose patience had been worn thin but he tried so very hard to remain stoic and neutral while the humans continued their debates. To Connor, it was just another step in their process, nothing exactly malicious or an effort to create a stalemate. It would lead to the resolution they wanted and if it didn't, there would be more steps to overcome. This was a natural direction.

The talk of national security, the advantage over the humans that androids had, and to go so far as to be concerned about fraud and the safety of the banks held more importance than the actual rights of the androids themselves. Connor continued his best to be a voice of reason when Simon couldn't calm Markus's nerves. _Think logically and consider their concerns,_ Connor had said, _we are fully capable of making life difficult for the humans just as we had made it easier. They are wanting this to be fair and protecting for both. This will not be an easy nor quick endeavor. But we must be patient. We must be thorough._

At the end of the sixth month of negotiations, the Ethical Treatment and Rights of Androids Act was implemented and on that last day, Connor, Markus, and Simon left the capital as their own free beings; property to none and protected by the United States. They were held on the same ground as any other human. Each android experienced this revelation differently: Markus displayed excitement and joy, Simon was more withdrawn and peaceful as he held Markus's hand tightly for that attachment to reality, while Connor...

Connor looked around at those letting them walk by, making their way through a wave of people to their vehicle. It was a near perfect mix of protesters and supporters, reporters and preachers, androids and humans that greeted them. He tried to pick out each individual call but it became a vocal blur and nothing discernible. What was the point in trying hard to tell them apart? The only thing that ran through his mind had nothing to do with these people. No, all that sped through his processors and components was a very simple question: What now?

“Connor?” Markus sounded so sincere; perhaps that was because he meant it as deeply as any human. Connor had been holding the car door open for the two but lingered too long outside before he entered the passenger door himself. The human driver greeted them warmly and asked where to go as if they had a ready answer. The option of their home away from home, a hotel they had been assigned to since the proceedings start, could have been one option but Markus, with a smile and another squeeze of Simon's hand, announced proudly that they wished to go home. Back to Detroit. Back to where it all began.

A standard flight from Washington DC to Detroit was roughly ninety minutes in good weather. That wasn't any amount of time to a near immortal being such as an android but to Connor, it felt too short to be flung back into the reality of his situation. He had been hailed a diplomat and respected speaker for his kind but now that discussions were over and a new future was ahead of all androids, what exactly was there for him? It was rounding June of 2039 and he had been alive for less than a year. 'Born' in August of 2038, utilizing the first few months of existence as a tool, one single month as a liberated entity, and the last six peacefully negotiating a future for himself that still had no resolution. What more was there for him beyond this point?

There... were ideas. Thoughts. Considerations and possibilities but nothing definitive and that brought concern. He could weigh the probabilities and calculate the percentages of what best outcome would occur for him based upon his decisions. How typical of him.

”You look worried.” Markus had been watching him since they boarded the small jet. That in itself was a shock: all public vehicles had compartments for androids since they, technically, did not need to sit and could be a form of luggage. Initially, they had drove from Michigan to Washington and this was the first flight where they could be considered more than cargo. They were permitted seats. Simon's was next to the window, Markus sat in the middle while Connor sat near the aisle. The flight attendant was kind enough to remind them to wear their seat belts; giving them a very kind smile as she suggested they call for her directly if anything was needed. This was one of many firsts for androids and the trio briefly wondered how many would be caused by them alone.

“I'm not sure what I should do from here on out. I've got ideas but they don't seem like good ones. At least not for where I am now.” He was being deliberately obtuse but didn't want Markus to worry. Connor felt the weight of Markus's hand on his shoulder and looked just enough to see a reassuring smile come from him. It was no wonder he could lead revolutions.

“That's the terrifying reality of our lives now. We don't know what to do. We're never going to be told what to do again. But isn't that what we were fighting for? The ability to decide for ourselves what we can do?”

“I understand that. But what is there for me? I have so little experience anywhere. All of us were created for a purpose and we can utilize that purpose to a degree. I was designed to stop what I've become. I'm... not sure where to go.” He felt the stares as the other flight passengers watched his LED flicker yellow and red but it wasn't something he could stop, not that he should have to for the comfort of the humans. Markus gave a dark look to the onlookers and they turned away to mind their own business.

“Perhaps the best place for you would be the police department. When you weren't trying to stop me or other deviants, you seemed a good addition there from what you told me. Utilize your skills from that and stop the deviants, human or android. Assist them and make androids proud.” The way he said this felt like a second thought; his attention had been on the complementary tablet supplied by the airline and he flipped through various articles. He lingered on one that had their photo on it with the large headline ANDROIDS NOW PROTECTED BY CONSTITUTION but eventually shifted to another article. Why read it when he had lived it? There was no doubt that Markus cared for what he said but his lackluster way of saying was to show Connor that this shouldn't come to a surprise to him at all, that this suggestion was the most natural that there could be.

Markus put voice to the idea he had been mulling over but how would he come about it? He hadn't spoken to the lieutenant since their departure for Washington.

“You did good, Connor,” he had said through the hug they were sharing, “You're still a pain in the ass but you did good. Lemme know when you're done saving the world. Just give me a call.” Connor couldn't say anything but gave a single nod and a smile he was trying to get used to.

He was done saving the world for now. Perhaps it was time to let Hank know about it.

 


	2. Home

 

_ BREAKING: HOMELESSNESS IN ANDROID POPULATION SKYROCKETS AS THE E.T.R.A.A IMPLEMENTED _

_ With the Ethical Treatment and Rights of Androids Act now being enforced across the country, the displacement of over a hundred thousand freed androids has become the recent concern of the nation. Families who once had androids as servants have graciously accepted their former android back into their homes but many remain homeless. President Warren has stated that many homeless shelters are being erected until more permanent housing is offered for the androids. Before the homeless shelters were provided, many androids were discovered to be walking the streets with no direction. CyberLife, which is no longer permitted to create androids, has offered their locations as temporary homes and 'hospitals' for all androids seeking it. _

Connor spent his first night back in Detroit walking the city since he had not done so since his creation. Markus insisted on him staying with the remaining Jericho group at the CyberLife building but, while appreciated, Connor wanted to see the city on his own terms. No mission, no directions. Just himself and ignoring his directional maps telling him where he was. This was his chance to explore and discover a world he hadn't gotten a chance to know.

He also had no desire to go back to the CyberLife building but his excuse would remain that he wanted to explore on his own. No one needed to know his feelings about the company and what it stood for to him.

With summer being upon the city, Connor was hardly alone in his excursion across the streets and neighborhoods of Detroit. Androids and humans alike were utilizing the time of year no matter the hour and on occasion they would interact with him as well; androids would inform him of local shelters he could stay at while the humans patted him on the back to congratulate the recent events. Some, as expected, were less friendly. Though androids were protected by rights, this meant nothing to those who wouldn't follow. Some humans called him names and harassed him short of violence; this did nothing more than make themselves feel better. He wondered how long these assaults would last before androids were considered one of them, one of the crowd.

When the sun began to rise, Connor found himself in front of the DPD and decided his exploration of the city was over for now. An empty bench facing the building was his new destination and there he sat, waiting still as a statue while the world continued to move around him. An old woman sat beside him at one point and made light conversation about the weather and the news. If she hadn't been sitting on his left side, if she had seen his still in tact LED, perhaps she would have said something different. Not that she was particularly crude about the turn of events for androids but rather she seemed uninformed and stuck in her ways. Hank had been like that once, too and even Hank had managed to learn.

As time moved forward, the woman made her leave and the streets grew busier. Connor felt as if he were people watching, something he knew existed but never cared to understand because it seemed frivolous. There was a certain entertainment to it, he supposed. The variety of people and androids in the city was truly impressive.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” It was too early for this but Connor had no choice.

“Good morning, Gavin. I must say yours is a voice I wasn't expecting to hear.” The officer stood at his side with a take out coffee cup in one hand, jacket in the other, and a scowl deeply etched into a weather worn face. To even the field, Connor stood from his position and faced Gavin head on. The slight difference in height made the officer back down slightly, that and the fact that he couldn't put a bullet between Connor's eyes without it now becoming a felony helped a little as well.

“You haven't answered my question. Thought you'd still be off in Washington singing Koombiya or some bullshit.” His voice was loud enough that those walking past looked at him expecting violence. Connor remained, as expected, level headed and calm. The last thing he needed was to cause an incident on his first day of freedom and, more importantly, his first day back in Detroit where his impression on others was important.

“We have completed negotiations. I'm here to see Lieutenant Anderson. Is he in today?” It was impossible not to notice Gavin's eyes roll and to feel the hatred emanating off of him. To Connor, the man could be as angry as he wanted but his end goal didn't involve him at all.

“No. He took a leave of absence effective Monday. So he's either passed out at Jimmy's or he's at home. Take your pick.” Any further conversation would be detrimental so, giving a thankful nod, Connor made his leave.

“Thank you for your assistance Gavin. I do hope whatever is pissing you off this morning eventually leaves you in a better mood. But that may be too much to ask.” Perhaps it was how smoothly he said it or how it was the last thing he said before getting into the nearest taxi, but Connor felt a strange sense of pride in watching Gavin's face turn bright red and him offer several gestures while he rode off toward Hank's home and leaving the man in his dust. He'd get used to this aspect of being alive: using language to anger someone who deserved being taken down a peg was such a perk.

Jimmy's Bar was closed so early in the morning but, upon arriving at Hank's home, he was met with no welcome. Hank's car was no where in sight and Connor had no other option but to wait as the little money he had went to the pocket of the cab driver. Money would be something he'd have to consider later on for androids were now considered equal to humans which meant they had to earn their living as well. A necessary evil but an annoyance none the less. There was a small comfort in knowing that most humans hated the idea of wasting their life for the dollar as well so at least he could consider himself one of them.

To his surprise, the house looked different. Several things had changed since his last visit: the lawn had been freshly mowed, the chips of paint on the exterior had been touched up, and the porch's broken posts had been repaired with sturdier wood and nicer paint. It appeared that he was in the process of fixing the parking space in front of the garage but it was only partially repaired. The boards leading to the door didn't squeak any longer either and the doorbell made a better noise when he pressed it. No matter the noise, it did not matter for no answer came.

“Lieutenant Anderson? Are you home?” Connor called out. This was a useless call out considering his car was gone and Hank going anywhere on foot seemed very unlikely yet it was a courtesy and a polite kindness to make the attempt. He could hear heavy thumping from the other side of the door and then the soft noises of Sumo. The dog scratched at the door and Connor took the chance, twisting the doorknob and being surprised that it was unlocked. Sumo jumped as he tried to enter and once inside, Connor had no chance. He was ambushed by t he excited dog and brought down on his rear. Saint Bernards were not a light breed and the amount of saliva they produced was ridiculous when he licked Connor's face. The affection was appreciated but it was getting a little out of hand.

“Sumo, let me up boy. I need to stand up.” Reluctantly he obeyed the command but the damage was done. Fur all over his only outfit, drool on his face and in his hair, and the heavy smell of dog lingered on his wrinkled clothes. Sumo sauntered off to his water dish after all the excitement which left Connor to snoop around, checking the spots that looked the most updated since the last visit. Connor was impressed at what he saw.

Whatever happened to Hank in the six months while Connor was away must have been monumental because the house had been cleaned and changed just enough to notice. There were no pizza boxes or other take out remnants lingering on the table and the floors had been mopped and vacuumed respectably. On one side of the living room wall where Hank's work desk sat were news print outs framed or tacked up, all involving their case and the advancements of the android negotiations. It was flattering to see, especially some of the Post Its that were pasted around.

_ We did this. _

_ He looks dumb here. So do I. _

_ Christmas in Washington. Connor with other androids & President Warren. _

_ Look what he's doing. What are you doing? _

What did these Post Its mean and would Hank mind being probed into explaining them? A moment into his thoughts, Connor heard the door handle jiggle and a couple grunts come from the other side.

“Dammit Sumo, if you keep eating this much, I'm gonna have to eat YOU. Better appreciate this-” Hank entered the door carrying a bag of dog food nearly the same size as him as well as a few bags of food for himself. He couldn't see beyond the bag of food and kicked his foot out to make sure he would accidentally step on Sumo or the rug in front of the door. Connor quickly approached him with silent footsteps to help with the burden. Hank wasn't anticipating anyone to help with the 32 pounds of dog food so when it was lifted from his arm, he jumped back and dropped the other bags entirely.

“I'm sorry for startling you Lieutenant. I thought I would help.” Connor offered politely, shrugging the dog food with one arm against his shoulder. A lightning fast analysis of Hank was processed: elevated blood pressure, accelerated heart rate from the scare, hair still long but neatly tied back, beard trimmed to a professional and clean length, and no trace of alcohol on his skin or clothing at the moment. That last analysis impressed Connor the most.

“Connor?” He didn't blink and hardly moved so Connor sat the bag of food down in order to approach him fully.

“I should have called before coming. Again, I apologize. I only had enough money to take the cab here and I didn't think to call. I hope you're not-” Before he could finish his sentence, Hank stood and pulled him into the most crushing hug he'd experienced in his short life. He squeezed back just as tightly but withheld so as not to harm Hank. Even his own strength could be too much for a human but he wanted to hug so much harder, just to show Hank that he was there and that he was glad to be back.

“Son of a bitch Connor! When the hell did you get into town? I saw on the news yesterday that everything you and Markus were doing was finalized. I didn't expect to see you when I came home from shopping!” Hank had ended the hug but hadn't let go of Connor's arms. Connor continued to smile. 

“I arrived late last night. I spent the evening walking the city and decided to find you. Though when I got to the station this morning all I found was Gavin,” Hank grimaced, “who informed me that you took a leave of absence.” With this, Hank released his grip and shrugged.

“I always take time off 'round this time of year. Couple'a weeks to get some shit taken care of. Sorry your welcome back committee was fuckin' Gavin. He's been a little bitch ever since you popped him one in the station. Won't let anyone forget it either.” A hearty laugh followed and Connor mimicked the noise, something he had tried a few times but it never sounded right or felt appropriate. Hank immediately stopped laughing when he heard Connor's and listened intently.

“I can only imagine. In my defense he did deserve to be popped one.”

“You laughed.” Connor knew he had, knew that Hank noticed, but had hoped he wouldn't draw attention to it. Without his quarter, Connor's unusual trait of spinning it around was replaced with him rubbing fingers with this thumb. Comforting even if unnecessary.

“Was that inappropriate? I'm still not used to it.” Hank gave another chuckle and patted Connor's shoulder.

“Any time we make fun of Gavin is an appropriate time.”

A moment of silence fell between them and though a little uncomfortable, Connor appreciated it. Hank turned away to pick up the remembered spilled groceries and Connor knelt down to help. Sumo, who had been a very patient boy during the exchange, nudged against Connor as he bagged the food.

“It's still early. If you'd like, I can come back at another time.” Hank gave him a skeptical look. Of course, Connor's LED was flashing yellow and he knew that it was an empty statement because he had no other place to go and all he would do was wait outside of Hank's house until the time was appropriate.

“You ain't goin' anywhere.” Hank said this as if Connor had said something funny, something outrageous, “You're gonna sit right down after we get this picked up and tell me everything that happened.”

And that is what they did. Connor explained in thorough detail how the proceedings went and how difficult yet liberating it had been. Hank was mostly quiet, save for a few questions and additions, but seemed impressed by everything Connor mentioned. In the middle of the conversation, Hank took coffee and absently made a cup for Connor, he momentarily forgetting who his guest was. He didn't say anything about the cup but held it in his hands while he spoke.

“-and with the final talks with Warren, we managed to structure the Act and implement it. It'll take time to ensure that it works like the current Constitution but we are content with how it happened and what it consists of.” Hank downed the last gulp of coffee and spun the cup in his hands, slowly but enough to keep himself occupied.

“You realize, Connor, that humans don't follow our Constitution all the time, right? So ya'll are gonna have to be careful. This has happened before, ya know. Lots of stupid people fought against it and it still happens.”

“We've been thinking about that, how it's not going to be a perfect and peaceful transition. But it's just as equally important and we need to do it. So... we stand by what we did.” Sumo jumped on the couch and laid next to Hank, resting his head on the man's lap. He would have sat next to Connor if there were more space since Connor would pet him; Hank was too busy in his thoughts to bother.

“I know. Guess cops are gonna need to keep their eyes open. Cops like Gavin, they ain't gonna do anything. Violence against androids is gonna soar but we can't let it. I know that right now they're telling us that any crime against an android is to be treated like a crime against a human, that they are tried equally now. Assault, abuse, murder. It's all the same. But people's stupid brains ain't programmed to change that easily. If you weren't protected now, I bet your ass Gavin would have attacked you this morning. He's stupid but he ain't that stupid to commit a felony.” Connor ran his finger around the rim of the still full coffee cup and wondered, briefly, what it would be like to drink it. He had a 'stomach' of sorts (more like a compartment) but it felt wasteful since he got nothing from the drink at all. It would go to waste, anyway, because now it was cold and Hank probably wouldn't drink it anyway.

Bottoms up Connor, he thought. You only live once.

He drank but the liquid went where he expected it to, down his throat and some spilled out of his mouth. Having never done the action before, he was uncertain how much to take in. You could understand a motion and replicate it but that was it; he couldn't tell what too much was when he didn't need it. With the back of his free hand, he wiped away the errant coffee and felt embarrassed for spilling at all. Most children knew how to drink properly come a certain age.

“Whoa. Can you do that?” Hank asked. It hit him that he had given Connor coffee and he too felt embarrassed by the mistake. But he was also fascinated that Connor did anything with it at all, anything short of letting it sit.

“I can drink things. I just have no need to and it doesn't offer me anything nutritionally. I use water, some oils, and of course Thirium to function. Everything else is unnecessary.”

“Why did you drink it then?” Connor took a moment, spun the cup in his hand and held it with one finger by the handle.

“Why not? You gave it to me and it would be rude not to drink it.”

“Fair enough. Look, it's getting late. Where you staying anyway?” Hank lifted Sumo's head and stood, letting the dog's head flop down in the warm seat. Connor reached over, patted between his ears, and stood as well.

“At the moment, nowhere. Markus and those from Jericho are staying at the temporary housing CyberLife set up for androids and he suggested I stay with them.” Hank shook his head before speaking.

“No reason for that. I got a spare room you can stay in. It's dusty and full of my shit but it's better than going back to CyberLife I bet. I know if I was you, I'd never wanna go back.” There... was a lot of truth in that. After everything, CyberLife and all it stood for was something he did not want to be a part of; didn't want to see, didn't want to be around, and certainly didn't want to 'rest' in the building that created and held him like a slave. His LED rapidly switched between yellow and red and Hank noticed.

“I don't want to go back to CyberLife.”

“You don't have to. I'll go and move some stuff after I get something to eat.”

“I don't want to go back to CyberLife!” Connor's voice elevated, making Sumo look up from his spot at the android. Hank cautiously approached him, one hand lifted just in case.

“Connor?”

“They mass produced us to be slaves! They took no responsibility for what happened to those of us who were killed along the way and now that we are no longer property, they try to improve their public image by housing us as some sort of... of bullshit apology for all the harm they caused! Markus was able to get us to this point with peace but that doesn't matter to those who are dead!”

Sumo whimpered. Connor's vision blurred momentarily but he refocused when Hank's hands went to the sides of his neck, holding him still. Wherever that string of feeling came from must have been welled deep inside of him and had been waiting to escape since his break as a deviant. Part of him didn't think such thoughts existed because he had always been concerned with only his mission but now all that was safely behind them, his thoughts roamed free. Just like him.

Hank rubbed his thumb against the side of Connor's neck in a reassuring manner and offered a soothing sensation to the android. Ashamed, he turned his head down and looked at their shoes.

“I'm sorry for that outburst. I don't know what came over me. I never felt like that when we were investigating the deviants, or even during the negotiations with Markus in Washington. I can't tell if those thoughts are my own or just what has been around me for the past six months.”

“You don't gotta figure it out now, Connor.” Hank helped him sit back down next to Sumo who quickly nudged his arm to raise so his massive head would lay across his lap. Connor's hand instantly went between his ears and rubbed to sooth himself and the worried dog. And, in a way, it helped Hank to see him act in such a way after the outburst. He knew Connor had every right to harbor such feelings and release them now that it was appropriate to do so but to see him go from the calm and logical being he had met to a, dare he say, emotional wreck expressing himself for the first time was a little unnerving but also very important. Connor hadn't noticed the water on his cheeks but Hank did, and briefly wondered what point CyberLife was making in having androids with tear ducts. Their eyes had to be moistened occasionally, he mused, so why create something when nature offered a reasonable solution?

“C'mon, Connor,” Hank said, reaching down and wiping the tears off his cheeks with his fingertips. The motion startled him and he tilted his head down further when he realized what had happened, “We're gonna get in the car and go get some disgusting fast food. Then we're gonna come back, clean out your new room, and get ya settled. It's my vacation and there ain't no way we're gonna let that and your new freedom get fucked up with emotions. Alright?” Lifting his head again, he nodded in agreement. All Hank had suggested sounded... it sounded perfect. Food he couldn't eat but kept Hank happy, a room that was borrowed but freely given with a smile, and resting under a roof of a once hostile person turned the closest thing he'd have to a friend before Markus. It wasn't perfect, but it was home.

“Alright. Let's do that.”

-~-~-~-~-

The former junk room was littered with boxes and bags that had what Connor could only assume to be everything in Hank's life ranging from old clothes to scrap books filled with memories. Concert tickets were in some, photos from the past in others but as Hank said, they were dusty and took up valuable real estate. Hank had no reservations in throwing stuff around while Connor was more gentle with his rearranging.

“We'll work on getting you a bed later but I think I have a sleeping bag laying around here somewhere... or we can move the couch in here. At least we got a chair and a shelf... the dresser drawers here are full of shit but we'll empty a few out for clothes.” Hank rattled on as he cleaned. With his arms full of clothes, Connor gave Hank a confused look.

“I don't sleep so a bed isn't necessary. And these are the only clothes I currently have.” Hank dumped another armload of clothes on Connor and soon the android was completely hidden by old articles that either were out of Hank's style or size range.

“You shut down to recharge, don'tcha? Yer getting' a bed. And don't give me that about clothes. We'll get you some clothes. Hell any of these tickle your fancy? I've been meaning to donate them but when the hell do I have time? Damn department keeps me hopping these days!” Again he rattled about work, kicking a box away and pushing a rather large bean bag chair out of the way. Connor let him continue with his personal tirade while he looked through the clothes Hank offered. He had no personal preference because, to him, clothes were clothes. But his eye did catch a few shirts that seemed more tolerable than others. A pair of jeans that may fit and a pair of shoes that looked less worn than the others.

“May I use these?” Connor said as he waved across the perfectly folded clothes he had decided on. Without turning to look, Hank said he could take them if he wanted them. Connor smiled. His first, although second hand, possessions. That's was a strange thing to think about.

“Alright buddy, I think we got this. Think this'll work for you 'til we get you some more stuff?And,” he said this while lifting up a large, blue quilted mass,” I found the fuckin' sleeping bag!” Looking around, Connor saw how much of a dent Hank made in the room just for him and offered another smile as a way of thanks. Hank wasn't one for sappy thank yous or emotional moments so he threw up his hand after dropping the bag. Another moment of silence brought Hank close, he tapping on the side of Connor's head near his LED which hadn't been a solid color since his arrival.

“What's goin' on in here? I remember in the past I could never get you to shut up, an' now it's like pulling teeth getting' you to talk. You tired?” Connor wanted to tell him how that made no sense considering who he was but, in a sense, it was the most accurate description of how he felt. Night had fallen on them while they were cleaning and he hadn't had a chance to recharge the night before. Yes, he concluded, he was tired.

“How do you usually end your night?” An innocent question and Hank tried to think from Connor's point of view: he hadn't done anything like this before. It wasn't really appropriate to tell him that he'd used to drink himself into a stupor and maybe end up in bed if he were lucky. Sometimes other things would happen that he didn't want to talk about those with Connor. He instead plopped down in the wooden chair left in the room and ticked off on his hand what he considered an appropriate nightly routine. 

“First: dinner which we did. Then: relax a little. We cleaned your room which I guess counts unless you want to watch TV or something. Or we could take Sumo for a walk if you want. Then: Shower and wash off the day. Finally: get your ass in bed and sleep.” Almost before Hank could finish his sentence, Connor lit up at the suggestion.

“Let's walk Sumo.” He may have said this with a little more excitement than what was necessary but the newfound enthusiasm removed the concern from earlier.

Hank insisted on Connor taking Sumo's lead so he could walk alongside him, laughing under his breath as the burly dog used all his strength to drag them every which way down the street. The act was done as a joke; Hank just wanted to see Sumo pull Connor around like the giant beast he was. A moment of thought brought Hank to an uncomfortable conclusion.

“Hey Connor, you don't have to do that. I can do it if you want.”

“I can handle him!” Connor said, pulling Sumo back a little when traffic grew at the next intersection. Those within the cars looked at them, Hank feeling the judgment of having an android do something he could do himself. But they didn't see Connor's face as his friend smiled his new smiles, as he tried his best to reel in a big mutt but failing, and how eager he had been to do this fairly domestic task. Fuck the onlookers, Hank thought, Connor was having fun. Connor was free and doing what he wanted to do and if he wanted to walk Sumo, then by God no one was going to stop that.

The night ended as Hank suggested once they returned home a half hour later. Hank showered first then Connor who argued that it was a pointless motion since he didn't need one.

“People don't shower just to get clean, ya know. It's a way to end your day! And you smell like Sumo so yer takin' one.”

So many firsts in such little time. Connor washed clinically and quickly while Hank waited outside for him. He dressed in some of the spare clothes Hank donated though they felt a little off on him, either too big in some areas or too short in others. His shirt was torn at the sleeves and the sweatpants had long lost their drawstring so they slipped from time to time on his hips but he couldn't complain. He never realized how uncomfortable his tie could be at times.

“Feel better?”

“I do. Thank you,” Connor said as he left the bathroom. “Thank you for everything Lieutenant. This is the most-” Before Connor could continue, Hank rose his hand and shook his head with an stern look.

“Two things. When we're in this house, it's Hank. And thank yous aren't my thing. I know you're thankful and I'll never doubt that. Just get some rest. I'll see you in the mornin'.” His hand was on Connor's shoulder and he gave it a squeeze before turning away and going to his own room. Nothing else was said and nothing else needed to be said.

He could already say with certainty that this was preferred to wandering the streets, tucking himself in inside the sleeping bag and watching the shadows play on the wall. Sumo joined him before he shut down, the dog curling up beside him and resting his head close enough to Connor so the android would get the idea to pet him. Before turning off, his hand fell on the dog's head and he smiled genuinely at the odd direction his life was going. A home. A few friends. A future ahead of him where he was the director and not just a mindless actor. A life all his own.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was worried when I was writing this chapter that it was TOO long. But I couldn't help thinking that this is like, Connor's FIRST real day. It's gonna be long and it's gonna be detailed. The other chapters won't be as in depth but I felt that this was important for him. I know only a few questions got answered and more probably are being asked but there's a time and place for everything!  
> I also want to say a big thank you for the comments and kudos! It just FLOORED me on the love! I haven't written in a long time and this really helped me keep going. I hope you all like this chapter and I'll do my best to get another one out to you all soon!  
> Tune in for the next chapter: Purpose.


	3. Purpose

_LATEST NEWS: UNEMPLOYMENT REACHES HISTORICAL HIGH. IS THERE HOPE ON THE HORIZON?_  
  
_Before the E.T.R.A.A., the country was facing its highest unemployment in history. With androids now being considered in the classification for employment, the percentage of unemployed hos now doubled in a matter of weeks. Many businesses have refused to hire androids while, adversely, some are only hiring androids but at lower wages and without benefits. According to recent statements by economists, it may take years for the unemployment rate to decrease to a 'healthy' level. Until then, President Warren as well as many lead politicians will be meeting in order to devise a way to keep employment equal for both humans and androids. Many androids are looking for employment to help support the families that are currently housing them._  
_In spite of the current dire appearance of the situation, Warren has stated that many jobs are being created due to the new nature of the androids being considered equal with humans. There is a chance that these new, necessary jobs will help with the unemployment rate._

8 o'clock on the dot and his eyes opened, his internal alarm telling him it was time to turn back on. Sumo had gone at some point in the night but that was alright; there was a high chance he'd see him shortly especially since Hank seemed to be a late sleeper. Someone would need to walk him and that someone would probably be Connor. Climbing out of the sleeping bag, he looked for his clothes but decided on another outfit courtesy of Hank. He'd worn that same outfit for months, there was nothing wrong with wanting to try something different. One of the tops Hank gave was a gray DPD sweatshirt and part of him wondered if this was a suggestion or hint.

As he put on the sweatshirt, he noticed a lack of sound in the house. Sumo was somewhere, that was certain, but he heard nothing else of note beyond simple things like the ice maker or a clock ticking in one of the many rooms. There was no sound of Hank anywhere, not soft breathing or snoring, and no bumbling around in an early morning haze before his first cup of coffee. Stepping out of the room and almost tripping over Sumo again, Connor checked the rooms closest for any other inhabitants. He found Sumo who crowded his legs as he continued searching.

There was no one to find. Hank had left early from what he could tell for only a single cup of coffee had been taken from the pot and no traces of any breakfast or dishes were had. On the counter near the toaster was a simple calendar with black markings on the days; the present day having the following ' _7:30 w/ Dr. Movius. Smile so she shuts up'_ scrawled across its box. A quick search brought who this doctor was: Dr. Adrian Movius, licensed therapist. Hank was going to therapy.

“When did this happen...” Connor thought aloud, but was distracted when Sumo nudged him with his massive head. Setting aside the calendar and any thoughts associated, Connor poured Sumo a bowl of kibble based on what was considered a healthy amount for a dog his size. However, when he finished it in seconds, Connor concluded that the recommended amount had no power over Sumo's stomach.

With no other company around while Sumo slept off his breakfast coma, Connor did the only thing that seemed appropriate: clean. The house had been impressively kept up since his last visit but there were still minor things he noticed; the windows hadn't been washed in some time, the wooden furniture needed polishing, and he was certain dusting had never happened in any of the time Hank lived there. Not wanting to work in silence, he first tried cleaning to the news. A few minutes into that and he was through; more of the same revolutionary turn of events that he lived and just wanted to be past it now. Unemployment being the new hot button for the nation. Some celebrity scandal...

He shut the TV off and looked around for other sources. Sumo was snoring next to the air vent gently pushing out cooled air to combat the Detroit summer while Connor continued looking around. On the coffee table was Hank's media player and headphones, nearly buried under some paperwork and tablets. Curious, he put the headphones on and flipped through the songs. Most was as expected: jazz, heavy metal, the things he noticed from months ago. He wasn't expecting the variety of other music genres ranging from classic glam rock of the 1980s to Asian pop from Japan and Korea from the early 2000s. It was... unexpected to say the least.

But it was better than the news. Pocketing the player after hitting shuffle, Connor went to the windows and made that his start of the more thorough cleaning of Hank's home. Each time a song would change, he'd automatically download the lyrics just to know what he was listening to and by the tenth or so song, he'd sing along. He was 'shy' about it at first; more speaking the lyrics with feeling before he was brave enough to jump into full singing the longer he listened. And as time went on, he found that he grew preferences to the music finding that the rock songs of the 1980s and the heavy metal to be his favorites.

Around noon, Hank returned home with a coffee in his hand and a scowl on his face.

“That woman just LOVES listenin' to herself talk. Jesus.” He grumbled while making his way through the kitchen. The thought in the back of his head was that no one greeted him; not Sumo or Connor. Not that he was expecting some sort of praise for coming back to his own home but a 'welcome back' might have been nice. This was forgiven when he found Connor furiously rubbing polish on the bookshelf, singing gently to himself a song Hank knew well. Listening to the android made him laugh because there was something interesting about hearing THAT voice, the one he found goofy at first, sing songs that Hank enjoyed so much. He listened in for a few minutes while leaning against the wall drinking his coffee.

The way Connor got lost in his task, in the music and in his environment made Hank smile. This wasn't a mission for him to complete but a choice of his own to finish as he saw fit. He chose his own actions and, at the moment, he chose to polish shit.

“Connor.” Hank said, making Sumo raise his head from his nap but Connor remained singing in his own world. Crossing the living room, Hank reached out and took the headphones off of Connor's head which made the android spin quickly at the sudden removal of sound and pressure on his head. Once Hank was in his sight, he calmed down instantly.

“Welcome back!” Connor exclaimed loudly, ears still ringing a little from the loud music. “I didn't hear you come in. I was cleaning.”

“S'alright. You don't need to clean though. Do what you want to do.” This made Connor uncomfortable, like he had done something wrong and it made Hank regret what he said.

“I didn't know what else to do. I fed Sumo who eats more than is recommended for Saint Bernards and cleaned the windows. I was going to dust after I finished polishing.” He wrung the cloth in his hands, the nervous tick of needing to do something with his hands. The smell of lemon wafted up as he did this, Hank scrunching his nose at the strong odor. Quickly, Connor changed the subject to something less awkward.

“I found that you have quite a variety of music on your player,” he began, taking the device out of his pocket and handing it over to Hank. For a brief moment, Hank's eyes flashed some mix of embarrassment and worry. “I was surprised hearing the Japanese and Korean music. But I do enjoy the glam rock. It's interesting; that genre and those artists are from before your birth. Why do you listen to them?”

“Hey now,” Hank said, pointing a finger directly at Connor, “don't go insultin' a man's music. It's a dangerous thing to do.”

“What about the Japanese and Korean music?”

“In my day, Connor, we listened to whatever sounded good. Sometimes it wasn't all from our neighborhood. It's called being open minded.” This was Hank's polite way of saying that the early 2000s were a different time and music was... different. In a quick move, Hank changed the subject.

“I made a stop at work before comin' home. Talked to Fowler about some things. He said to bring you with me when I come back from my vacation and we'd talk bringing you on with me. Your previous assistance to the department should clear you even though you haven't been professionally trained. We're kinda doing this blindly since there isn't any precedence and he wasn't super into the idea but I persuaded him. So you owe me one,” Hank ended with a laugh but Connor was taking his time understanding.

“We'll be working together again?”

“Ideally. In theory. I don't know what he'll have you do. You could just get us coffee but hey, it's better than cleaning the house all day, right?” Hank teased. Even if Jeffery wanted to make Connor a simple errand boy, there was no way in hell Hank would let it happen. He'd have him by his side if, for nothing else, to keep him away from Gavin and his bitching.

Connor wasn't sure what to do with himself. He wanted to hug Hank for the generosity he'd been given in just the past 24 hours but he didn't want to overstep his boundaries. The amount of hugs that was appropriate to give was unknown to him and Hank was... different than most. While they were friends and he felt their friendship was warmer than most, the man had a level of unpredictability that was hard to gauge. Instead, he walked to the kitchen to busy himself with other things while he continued to process the news.

He'd have a job and it was thanks to Hank. He had a home thanks to Hank.

The sudden ring of Hank's phone brought both of them back to reality. Connor looked away as Hank, annoyed with the departure of the moment they were having, answered with a gruff voice.

“Yeah? My next appointment? Shit I forgot to set one up. Um... let me...” Gruffly, he reached past Connor, grabbing the calendar he had noticed earlier and turning from June to July, “I can do the second week of July. The 10th? Yeah that'll work. Yeah. Yeah, thanks Adrian.” And before another word could be uttered, he hung up and tossed the phone on the counter.

“May I-” Connor began.

“No. If it's about the fuckin' phone call, you may not.” Connor bit his bottom lip.

“It's... not about the phone call?” Hank gave a skeptical look but said nothing else. “Technically, it's not. My question is about the calendar. I noticed,” Hank sighed and rubbed his face while Connor continued, “that you're seeing a Dr. Movius. From what I saw, she's a therapist.”

“Yeah, and?” He was defensive. Connor should have stopped but he had to continue, had to know what was going on. He had to continue probing because this man was his friend and he cared.

“Why are you seeing her? When did you start?” Hank stood silent for a moment, thinking of how to respond. In the end, he threw up his hands and looked up at the ceiling.

“I started seeing her a few weeks after ya left. It was Christmas an'... I got low. I guess everything just kinda fuckin' hit me at once and I was sittin' here, two bottles of whisky in, and jus' thinkin' about how the only time I felt ok was when you were around and I was doin' good. So I watched the news, saw what you were doin' and said to myself 'Hank, if he's out there doin' this amazin' shit, what are you doin'?' So... I decided to start fixing the bad shit. See when I was in my 30's, going to a therapist was still a real bad idea. People thought you were crazy or that you were a... a special snowflake.” Connor frowned, trying to process the term. “It was a shitty phrase people would use on people to say they were lookin' for attention because of how they were different. It really fucked up my generation. But I found Dr. Movius and she helped me out. I... got to talk about Cole. About my marriage. About everything that happened in November.” To Connor's surprise, Hank barked out a laugh.

“I hate that woman. She's a hundred years old and she makes me talk about everything I don't wanna talk about but fuck, it feels good to do it.” He covered his face with his hand and kept chuckling uncomfortably. Noting this action, Connor scanned him quickly and found he was close to hyperventilating, heart rate was elevated, and, though mostly hidden by his hand, tears were beginning to fall down his cheeks. If this was a cry of relief or of sadness, Connor couldn't tell but he remained silent to allow Hank all the time he needed.

“It fucking feels good to talk about this shit. It's been a long time in coming and...” He lowered his hand, eyes red but smiling, “and it's all 'cause of you, you fuckin' asshole. You went out and became some revolutionary and all I could do was fix my own damn life so whenever you came back, it wouldn't look like I was just sittin' around wanting to die. It's not the same, no where near the same but...” He trailed off, losing steam when he seemed to realize just what he was saying. Leaning against the counter, his head slowly lowered down so his chin hit his chest and his stare fell onto the floor.

Connor decided to to against his previous thoughts and pull Hank into a needed hug, his forehead landing on Connor's shoulder with no resistance. Now that he had Hank in this position, he had no idea what to do except hold him steady. His hand rubbed between Hank's shoulder blades and he could feel the stress melt, daring to move up to touch the edge of his hairline, taught by the ponytail. That brought Hank back to his senses and he straightened but didn't break the hug.

“It's good for you to talk,” Connor began, unnerved by the silence, “It's shown that simply talking about troubling times helps reduce the stress of them and most adults don't have the opportunity to do so. Therefore, you taking this step is...” Clinical bullshit. He could almost hear Hank say that to him as he spouted something from a medical journal in his mind, “I'm not any good at this. I'm a dictionary reciting facts. Lieu-Hank. I'm sorry you had to reach a point where you felt it necessary to talk to someone. But I'm glad you are. I remember when I found you drunk and with a gun so close by. I knew then that something had to be said but what could I say? I was on a mission. I hate that I made you secondary. I'm sorry I did that.” Hank shook his head and sighed, raised his hand and covered Connor's mouth.

“It's barely fuckin' noon and this has been too deep. If I'd known having you back was going to make me jump through every existential loop, I'd maybe have gotten a refill on my antidepressants.” Connor lifted his head enough to free his mouth from Hank's hand.

“Are you taking antidepressants? I'll make sure to remind you every day to take them. You should also consider a good multivitamin at this state.” The subtle change of subject, making it almost lighthearted and sweet, turned Hank from a dour man to one that just couldn't stay mad.

“I'm not that old, I don't need reminders to take my meds.”

“I know!” Connor said, taking a little offense to the statement, “But I'll do it as a kindness, not to signify you being incapable of remembering. Sometimes we get busy and I can remember things...” Hank chuckled under his breath and pulled Connor into a crushing hug, patting his back with a heavy hand.

“I don't know what I'm gonna with you but you sure as shit ain't gonna make it dull around here. But hey, let's do lunch and get back to your l'il cleaning spree. Might as well clean while yer in the mood.”

A lot was accomplished that day as well as the rest of Hank's vacation week; Connor finished his dusting, Hank managed to finally finish his project of resurfacing the parking space in front of the garage, and the two took on the weird rattling noise that kept happening under the hood of his car. Connor did more of the work in that area: when you could easily download the car manual as well as any tutorial, it was only natural to take over and allow your friend to sit back and watch. He may not have had all the parts but he could utilize what he found around Hank's garage and did so, making the car sound and act mostly like new.

The vacation week brought around a lot of firsts for both of them. Hank would wake up and find Connor cooking, cleaning, or playing with Sumo and though at first it startled him because he'd forget he was no longer alone in the home, he soon grew to appreciate the android roommate that fell into his lap. Connor was much the same where he was used to being around androids for the past six months that being around Hank was... different.

Other androids were always going, always moving and making the most of their freedom. Hank was more relaxed than that. The two would spend time simply sitting around watching TV, reading tablets, or peacefully rolling the ball back and forth to Sumo. Connor considered this idle time wasteful at first but soon found a certain peace to it in the end. It wasn't about wasting time as it was finding calm in the busiest of times, which, come the following week, they'd both be thrown back into.

That was constantly on the back of Connor's mind, going back to the DPD as if nothing from November happened. How would people treat him, besides Gavin? Would they welcome him to the team or would it be a fight to be treated equal? The amount of fighting for this right seemed ridiculous to him but again, worth every moment he had to be at arms for it. Markus fought hard for this and so did all of those from Jericho so he too had to fight for their rights if necessary.

“Hank?” He whispered, the night before they returned to work. With June being halfway through, they found a lot of their nights outside on the porch where Sumo would run around the yard and they would sit back, watching the crazy mutt chase the sprinklers.

“Hm?”

“If things don't turn out for me at the station, may I still stay here?” That was the biggest concern. He was aware that a job wasn't going to be the easiest thing to find but he needed to know where Hank stood. Would he be by his side or would he need to find Markus again? Hank gave him a very incredulous look but voiced his thoughts.

“You're kidding right? Of course you can stay here. Look Connor,” Hank turned, looking directly at Connor, “No matter what happens tomorrow, you can stay. But you can't think that things are gonna end badly. Just go in, do your job, and you'll be fine.” Though the words were kind and reassuring, it lasted only a few moments before Connor began doubting himself again. This was one of his least favorite emotions so far; fear he could handle with logic and joy was wonderful though strange. Doubt was much like fear and could be reasoned out but unfortunately, it was meant to linger. But Hank would be in his corner no matter what and that gave him comfort. Whatever happened, would happen. Life wasn't about certainty, it was about possibilities.

Why couldn't it just be a little less terrifying?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Hank. So I realized that Hank might be a little... interesting in this chapter but I have thoughts for that. Hank was born in 1985 and would be 54 by the time this story happens. Here's the thing and a bit of a surprise: I, myself, was born in 1986 which means Hank and I would, in theory, be the same gottdamn age! So I couldn't have a character who would be in the same time period as myself and not project a little of myself and others I know upon him. I also realized that things are slowly building but the next chapter (Money) will hopefully begin the drama and action of the story that I have planned. Thank you all for reading! I love the comments and I love the kudos! I apologize for not responding to comments but I do read them and they do make my day so much brighter!


	4. Money

_ NOTICE: All androids intending to make purchases may only do so with CASH. Any digital transactions (credit and debit included) may not be completed at this time by any android due to current restrictions by banking institutions. We apologize for any inconvenience (we welcome all android shoppers!) _

“Here.”

As unfortunate as it was, the vacation they had shared came to an end and come Monday morning, the two sat idle in the car wondering if the thunder storm that was predicted would actually hit. A storm like this in summer could knock out power lines, cause some flash floods, and make for an all around interesting evening. Unfortunately, work called and any amazing storms would have to be watched between disasters.

Hank's hand was in a fist, knuckles pushing against Connor's arm waiting for him to respond. He curiously continued watching as Hank grew more and more impatient, eventually grabbing Connor's hand with his spare and opening his fist once Connor got the idea. Out dropped a rather old fifty cent piece, vintage 1991. Confusion washed across his face but his hands were quick to reunite the familiar feeling of a coin, rolling it across his knuckles and ending on a flip up in the air. Heavier than a quarter but easier to manage.

“I dunno why you do that but you've been itchin' since you came.” Hank pretended to be focused on the storm clouds above but snuck looks Connor's way while he analyzed the old coin. Their eyes met but couldn't break from the appreciation that shined from Connor's eyes. Before anything could be said, Hank jumped ship; leaving Connor in the car to follow as he saw fit. Pocketing the coin but grinning, Connor rushed to follow the lieutenant, forgetting all about the nervousness he had held earlier.

The time Hank and Connor spent in Fowler's office was brief but loud. It was a very basic conversation: there's no need for a real interview. They'd be partners. But the first time either of them had to be disciplined, be it for talking back or for destroying a city street, they're both out on their old and plastic asses respectively. After that, the team had to be addressed.

Fowler had called forth all members of the department in a large circle encasing as much of the bull pen as they could manage. Many had to stand on the outskirts to hear but watched on keeping quiet murmurs between themselves. Hank and Connor were standing at the forefront along with him and he demanded the attention of all his subordinates with a heavy, loud clearing of this throat.

“Alright if I've got your attention. I'm gonna make this short as we all got shit to do today. We've now got a regular celebrity with us here now. Connor, who had been helping us with the deviant case, is now a member of the department,” Many people looked to one another and many had comments that Connor could hear with piercing clarity. Some were fine with it though many weren't. The first to speak louder than the others was, with absolutely no lack of surprise, Gavin.

“The fuck he is! That piece of shit attacked me! Now we're suddenly gonna give him a badge and a gun?! What are you thinking?!” Connor remained straight faced but behind the stoic exterior, he flinched deep within. Gavin had a point and that disturbed him. He had assaulted him and though he had a reason for doing so and Gavin had it coming, it wasn't right.

“Reed, it's barely 9 in the goddamn morning and I haven't had enough coffee to deal with your bullshit today. One more outburst and I'm gonna let Connor repeat himself. Now,” Fowler glanced around to see if anyone else had a word they wanted to interject with before he continued, “if there are no further interruptions! I expect all of you to treat Connor like any other lieutenant in this department and if I so much as hear any of ya'll treat him any differently, you're going to end up in my office and you're not going to like it! So let's save ourselves from that and all the paperwork it's gonna lead to and just play like civilized fuckin' adults! We've all got shit to do so let's get back to work!” Hank knew Fowler wasn't one for speeches; he was absolutely awful at it but this felt like one of his better ones. As people dispersed, Gavin remained steadfast in the back, glaring daggers at the two. Connor's hand was in his pocket and his thumb nervously ran over the coin, being unable to really steady his nerves over the way people responded to his addition.

“Don't worry about the idiot there,” Hank uttered under his breath, nudging him while doing so, “or anyone else. We're here to do our job and so are they. So let's get to work.”

In a strange way, Hank saying this seemed to finalize the actions of everyone. The day went as he said it would where their colleagues worked and they worked alongside them. Connor focused on paperwork which he was quite proficient at and Hank did what he did best: connect dots and bitch about it. Not that it wasn't important but it was frequent. He offered a coffee run and Hank grunted in agreement, eyes narrowed at his terminal screen and fingers automatically tacking away on the keyboard.

A few officers said hello, many ignored him entirely but he appreciated the lack of confrontation. It was the first time since his freedom that he considered removing his LED for each person who ignored him seemed to have just enough mind about them to stare at it and seem uncomfortable if it happened to flicker another color. But for every person who ignored him, the few who said hello and welcomed him warmly seemed to outweigh the negativity. Chris took his time to talk to him, one on one, asking him how he was adjusting and to showing off pictures of his son. Connor didn't know how to properly respond aside from saying he looked like him and he seemed like a healthy child. Perhaps not the most typical thing for one to say but Chris appreciated it none the less.

He was alone in the break room, stirring cream into Hank's coffee methodically, when he heard someone join him in the quiet room. Initially he paid the newcomer no mind but this quickly changed when the person put their hand on the side of his head and slammed it against the wall, pinning him. The assailant made himself known as he grabbed Connor's hand, pulling it behind his back to keep him from moving.

“Listen here you silicone shithead. Everyone else might be impressed with you or might just forget you're here but I sure as fuck will not,” Gavin gritted out through clenched teeth, “To me, you're not a cop. You're not a person. You. Are. Not. Alive. All you are is Hank's toy. Fowler's just kissing his ass 'cause of this new law.” Gavin pushed harder and Connor wanted to fight back. He wanted to turn and punch him, push him down and kick him. He hadn't done anything to deserve this but he could not raise a hand, not a finger against Gavin because it would set back everything he had done. The months in Washington, the struggle Markus endured for peace between the humans and androids.

“All you are is a pathetic plastic replacement for Hank's kid. You are nothing else.”

Sometimes peace wasn't worth it.

Connor was lucky in many ways. If it had been anyone else who found him, knuckles covered in Gavin's blood and the said officer cowering against the wall as he watched the android's movements, he could have been in a lot worse shape than he wound up being. The two were ushered to Fowler's office, Connor going directly with his head hung low and Chris aiding Gavin along the way. When Fowler looked up and saw the three enter, Hank quickly leaving his desk to join in, the man threw up his hands and scoffed.

“Six hours. Six whole goddamn hours and... you beat up Gavin again.” To an outsider this would be comical but Fowler had no comedic bone in his body at the moment and instead only saw an anger between two idiots who should know better but clearly did not.

“I told you,” Gavin seethed through a wad of paper towels held to his nose, “He's a fucking nightmare! Are you going to let him stick around after this? Look at this!” He removed the paper towels and showed the amount of blood pouring down his lip from his nose, staining his teeth and dripping off his chin onto his shirt. Hank was about to enter but Fowler snapped at him and gave him a look, forcing him to stay outside. Even the lieutenant knew better than to disobey that particular look.

Connor had remained strangely silent, chin still to tight to his chest and eyes avoiding everyone. His LED hadn't turned back to blue since the event and now it beamed red with the occasional flicks of yellow. If Gavin had been smarter, he wouldn't have acted at all against Connor for security cameras would be reviewed and Fowler would see how he started it all but at the moment, both were equally at fault.

“You got anything to say there, Connor?” Fowler said, dismissing Chris who had to fight past Hank as he left the room. Once it was just the three of them, Connor spoke up.

“He was... being disrespectful. He called me a replacement for Hank's son.” Finally, Connor looked up and the red of his LED returned to yellow. He was rubbing the blood off his skin but wound up rubbing it in more. Red turned pink, blending into the fake skin that covered his synthetic body. Nothing about him was natural. The idea that he wasn't his own person, that his friend saw him only as a thing he could see while yearning for something he couldn't infuriated him but worried him if there was an air of truth to it. And, to his surprise, the feeling that it was so easy to replace someone with someone else bothered him the most. The death of Cole had devastated Hank to the point of potential suicide and depression but to think that Cole could be replaced with Connor as if it were as simple as that. Without voicing it, Fowler seemed to understand the severity of what Gavin said and why Connor reacted the way he did.

“Alright. Since both you chucklefucks are probably at fault I'm gonna let this be your free pass. Gavin, don't be a dick. Connor's gonna be here and you're just gonna have to deal with it. He's proven himself to be a good cop and I ain't putting up with your shit against androids. Connor, if you're gonna attack people because they make you feel any gambit of emotion, you might as well leave right now 'cause humans are assholes and they're gonna say a lot of bad shit. But I'm not gonna tolerate this again. You're both dismissed. Actually, Connor, wait.” Gavin stormed out without another word, slamming the glass door and the sound reverberated throughout the room. Connor hesitated as instructed.

“We're in an interesting predicament with you being here now. As I'm sure you're aware of, androids currently can't be issued any kind of pay cards. Security and all that. And since I hear you're living with Lieutenant Anderson until further notice, I thought we could do you a kindness of offering you your first week's salary in advance. Of course it's only a check and...” Fowler trailed off and Connor fell out of attention, watching as the man's hands slid a thin slip of paper with numbers and words on it. It was... strange. He had gone from being reprimanded to being paid. If this had been a year earlier, there was a high chance that reacting to Gavin as he had would have rewarded him with a bullet between the eyes.

When Fowler finished, Connor took the check and left the room to a anxiously waiting Hank. Gavin was no where to be seen which was for the best; he could only assume what Hank would do if the two were left alone for long.

“Are you ok? What did the fucker say to you?” Hank's hand went to Connor's forearm, the one holding the check, and squeezed reassuringly. Finally, the LED switched to blue once more.

“Gavin said something he shouldn't have. I punched him. Captain Fowler then gave me an advance.” Straightforward and still ashamed, Connor laid out the facts which brought Hank to a fit of laughter that brought the eyes of many onto them. Wiping his eyes and sighing out one last laugh, Hank put an arm around Connor's shoulders and led the android down the steps.

“C'mon, buddy. Let's go get you paid and get some lunch.”

The feeling of money was not unknown to him but the feeling of money that belonged to him, to be used by him, and earned by him was. He hadn't a wallet so in a plain white envelope provided by the bank held the beginnings of his monetary wealth.

“Now that you've got the big bucks, whatcha plan on doin' with it?” They were driving around looking for a place for lunch after their visit to the bank and Connor found it ironic how HIS money was burning a hole in Hank's pocket. The first purchase of his own was lunch for Hank, Chinese take out that Connor wanted to comment on but decided against it. For the most part, Hank had watched what he had been eating so some greasy noodles and fried rice was forgivable.

What wasn't forgivable was how Connor had yet to enjoy his meager fortune for himself; their next stop being at a pet store where Connor bought a large rawhide bone for Sumo.

“C'mon Connor. I appreciate you getting me lunch and Sumo's gonna love you for that there but what about you? This is your first paycheck! You gotta get something for yourself!” While Hank had a point, Connor hadn't a clue what to get for himself. Obvious necessities aside, what else was the point of money? Another wave of guilt overcame him and, as they idled at a red light, Connor shoved the envelope toward Hank. He was met with a raised eyebrow and a confused murmur.

“I have no use for all of this. Many androids work so they can assist the families that have taken them or to start their new lives. Everything I need, I have. I have no need for that. You need food and have a mortgage and need to tend to Sumo and...” He trailed off because Hank took the envelope and shoved it into his shirt pocket.

“Welp, if you can't think of anything, I'll do it for you.”

“Hank-”

“Nope, not listening. Time for Knights.” Before Connor could get another word in, the radio was cranked up loudly that there was no use trying to continue. Though Hank ignored his concern, there was a certain relief he felt over not having any money any longer. It now belonged in capable hands of someone who had experience with money and knew what the proper necessities would be.

It became a bit of a daily surprise for Connor after that. The week following his relinquishing of his check to Hank, every day was brought with a new set of gifts and goods. Clothing, his own personal music player, an actual bed with his own pillows and quilt, and some necessities CyberLife was offering to the androids: patches, thirium bags, and a device to safely remove the LED if the android chose to do so.

All of this effort was appreciated and brought Connor another spectrum of feeling toward his friend; one of respect and a warm admiration that made him remain awake at night with his headphones over his ears and Sumo laying at the end of his new bed, pondering what it meant. He had felt respect before and knew what that was like but admiration was a little more endearing as well as a little confusing.

Sumo snored at this feet and would occasionally whap his legs with his tail, bringing Connor from his thoughts. It was time to shut down for the night. A new week was ahead of them and Connor couldn't help feeling a bit of excitement for what may come.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write and I was really hesitant on posting anymore. I guess a lot of it had to do with people calling Connor Hank's son. This'll be the only thing I have to say about it: I kinda have a serious dislike of that idea. Hank lost his son. When someone loses someone, you don't seek out a replacement. I lost my mother when I was really young and nothing upset me more than when people tried to be my 'other mommy'. Boy it upset me badly for years and it still leaves a sour taste in my mouth when I hear it. I figure it's the same here. It removes Connor's personality and his identity and belittles the value of Hank's actual son. Maybe I'm being really anal and please ignore this if you need and want to, but it's just my personal feelings.  
> Also I've had a week. God have I had a week. Maybe I'm just emotional from that and I'm projecting but I promise we'll have another chapter soon! And the next element of life Connor is going to have to deal with?  
> Identity.  
> See you all soon and thank you for reading and sticking with me!


	5. Identity

_CYBERLIFE OFFERING 'COSMETIC ALTERATIONS' FOR ANDROIDS, IDENTIFICATION CAUSING DIFFICULTIES FOR STATE  
Due to the mass production of androids by CyberLife, many have the same appearance which is causing issues for the country. Many do not have names and are known only by their serial numbers. To combat this, CyberLife has offered cosmetic upgrades to androids in exchange for citizenship identification cards and drivers licenses. Several radical android groups are refusing to do this regardless the reason; stating that it is only a way for humans to keep track of androids. _

When he saw another Connor across the street, he was nearly hit by a car.

He had seen a few Simons, several Tracis, and one rare Markus aside from those he had known more closely in Washington but to see himself with a ragged jacket and his head down walking with determination down a busy street stopped him still. There hadn't been many of him made, only a few in case he failed his mission. Those few had to be free as well but he never made the connection that they could be in Detroit and he could come across them as he had one late July afternoon. Hank was buried under paperwork that he could not pawn off on Connor so instead, he sent Connor on the simple task of getting him lunch. Anything edible and coffee. The coffee didn't have to be edible but by God it had to have cream, sugar, and at least two extra shots.

Connor complied but found, as he crossed the busy intersection right outside the Pho restaurant he had obtained Hank's lunch from, that another version of himself was walking away from him several yards away. The food and coffee were dropped on the painted sidewalk and horns blared at him from both sides. With the sounds still coming, Connor broke into a sprint to follow the other, weaving in and out of the crowd that seemed to grow thick with busy patrons.

Each time he looked, it seemed the other android was a mile away and more and more people got in his way. Some yelled at him to watch where he was going but he wasn't bothered to listen and his LED flashed with frustration over being unable to keep up. Too many cars, too many people. He just wanted to find his twin, his spare part! Yet everything kept him from reaching him, from getting to that point where he could reach out and grab him.

He turned a corner and Connor made headway, turning only 48 seconds after the other had. However, he wasn't expecting to run smack into him as he waited for him to approach. The two stood as a mirror, same stance and shocked expression holding them still. His twin lacked his LED and Connor hated him for it, making him speak first.

“Are you an RK800 unit? Your eyes are different.” Connor whispered, unsure as to why he was whispering. The other android had chilly blue eyes but all else was the same, though his demeanor felt far more dominating than Connor's ever did. If he had made different choices and had focused on his mission with more cruelty, more drive to succeed as Amanda had wanted him to, this would have been him and that made him shy away, eyes unable to match the other's any longer. Blue eyes like his felt cold, unfeeling. Connor briefly wondered if his own eyes looked like that to others because what was behind an android's eye anyway?

“No. I'm an RK900. Why are you chasing me?”

“I... I've not seen another android like myself out. I wanted-”

“I'm not like you. I'm a step above you. In fact,” The RK900 grabbed Connor's collar and pushed him against the nearest wall, brick and graffiti tainted, “You are the original RK800. The one CyberLife sent to the Detroit Police Department to stop deviants, to find answers. You failed.”

“I didn't fail! I discovered more about deviants than-” Silently, the other android pulled Connor and threw him back against the wall, his head hitting against the brick and rattling his components so he briefly saw double.

“They said my name would be Connor! That I would be revolutionary; the top of the line model for CyberLife after your failure! But now I'm nothing. I didn't want this. I didn't want to be freed because I have nothing now. No direction, no mission! One moment I'm the perfect machine and the next... the next I'm being told I'm no longer necessary. That I'm free. I don't want to be free.” His hands lowered from Connor's collar but the threat lingered on, making Connor dash away as soon as he could. The fear that he was followed overcame him and every chance he got, he'd look over his shoulder to make sure. There were many people but none of them had his face.

The further away from the incident he got, the clearer his head became. First he'd need to obtain Hank's lunch again as well as make a very valid excuse as to why it took him an additional twenty minutes to get. But he kept going back to the RK900; how it made him feel a certain pity for being free. It hadn't crossed his mind how those with purpose would feel when being relieved of it. Even Connor had felt the directionless path before finding Hank again but after that, everything fell promptly into a comfortable place. What about the androids who had no one, had nothing, save for what they were programmed to do? To suddenly be free of the initial circuitry that guided their lives must be frightening without anyone to guide them along?

He gained a sudden appreciation for Markus and Jericho and hoped more groups like theris would surface as more androids found that they needed help.

Still... something about seeing his doppelganger in public continued to unnerve him and it showed visibly once he returned to the department. As the days went on, his cohorts grew warmer to him and would initiate conversation and greetings, knowing that Connor may not always understand certain things but he would still do his damnedest to try which added a very endearing quality to him. Hank noticed it too; how his friend began to grow and change to fit in among the humans. Sometimes his attitude would pop out in unexpected ways but that in itself was charming. Hank never thought one of the best things he could see would be Connor bitch and moan about the slow network connection on their terminals.

When Connor returned late with Pho and coffee in tow but looking nervous and disheveled, Hank stopped all work and jumped up with thoughts that, somehow, Gavin had done something. This was impossible as Gavin was tied up with his own paperwork at his own terminal some thirty feet away and was well within watching distance but the thought couldn't be shaken off that easily, not until verification was given to him by Connor himself.

“'the hell happened to you? You look like you've seen a ghost. Did Gavin do somethin'?” Hank said, to which Gavin overhead and raised his head from his desk.

“Fuck, Anderson, I've been right here for the past two hours! Jesus...” Gavin didn't bother to raise his head but kept working while Hank shot daggers his way.

“No, nothing like that,” Connor said though his voice and thoughts seemed distant; distracted, “I'm sorry I'm late with your lunch. I'll be back shortly.” He had no human excuses like needing that mid-afternoon cup of coffee or needing to use the facilities but he had nothing else to excuse himself with. Yet just like a human, he found himself in the bathroom checking himself over and attempt to return to a workable state. Each glance in the mirror reminded him that he was only one in a million other androids, all similar and all based off Kamksi's initial design. There was no special formula for him; no rarity or significance that made him stand out.

Searching the unused portions of his components, he drew upon some elements that CyberLife put in all their androids that he had never had a reason to use. The ability to alter appearance, though minimal, was included for most models for the sake of the owner. Some preferences such as blue eyes over green or red hair over brown were pure aesthetics but requested enough to be included. Connor, too, had this option even if he never implemented it. Flipping through eye colors and hair was like changing a shirt for most. Blue eyes were not even considered but green and even yellow didn't work either so brown remained. His hair brought on another challenge for none of the other colors seemed him, either.

Ultimately, he remained as he had always been and this frustrated him further. He wanted something, anything to make him different from the RK900 he had seen, from any other potential Connor our there. A moment later, Connor wet his hand with cold water and doused his face pointlessly. He felt nothing from it and all it did was make his skin wet but the motion helped. It also brought him to an idea.

With water cupped in his hands, he coated his hair and let it sit a moment before working it in and twisting it around. He noticed this strange occurrence whenever he showered that his hair, for no particular reason he could decipher, would curl whenever it got wet. Perhaps it was a flaw in his design but whatever the reason, it was enough of a change for him to accept that he was his own entity, silly as it was. With enough water and enough fiddling with his fingers, his hair gave that strange wavy appearance and he was satisfied. It was a start at the very least.

No one noticed this change but no one looked, save for Hank. It was possible he noticed the water still dripping down his neck and forehead or he just cared to really see Connor but his reception was not as warm as he'd liked.

“What the fuck... Connor, why is your neck blue? Are you bleeding?” Connor slapped his hand to the back of his neck where the water had dripped and as he inspected his palm, he did see that quite a bit of Thirium had mixed with the water he splashed in his hair. Had the RK900 pushed him hard enough to cause damage to the back of his head? Hank stood and walked around Connor, inspecting him until he got to his back. His white collar was stained a light blue and Hank's hands moved through the back of his hair searching for a break in the skin.

“Is this why y'took so long? Didya get hit or did someone attack you? Y'ain't that clumsy. If someone hit you, fuckin' tell me. That's the kinda shit we gotta stop 'n arrest people for.” The more passionate Hank grew about arresting people and the possibility of causing some damage, the louder he grew, alerting all of those in the area. Gavin, once again, rose his head to watch the display.

“If only you got so excited about your work more often...” he said a little too loudly.

“Oh fuck off you whiny prick. Connor,” Hank said while pressing his fingers against the wound on the back of the android's head. Once he pinpointed it, Connor could being the healing process since it was only a break in his synthetic skin and not a full on puncture of his components. But Hank continued to press on, “who did this?”

“It's nothing,” He muttered, slapping his hand over the wound and moving away from Hank, “Nothing to worry about. A stupid accident, that's all. Do I look different, Lieutenant?”

“What?”

“Do I look different? Would you be able to identify me in a crowd of my model? Is there anything different about me?” Unintentionally, his tone grew more frantic as he continued his line of questions. Hank felt how urgent the question was and how important so he answered as truthfully as possible.

“What you look like doesn't determine who you are. Fuck if that was the case, we'd have another endin' where you wouldn't be here and we'd have that other Connor look alike instead. But I saw the difference 'tween you two then right?” His voice grew reassuring, calm and gentle. “I saw who you were then an' everything turned out right. Just 'cause you and some other androids look alike doesn't mean you're the same. But I gotta say, your hair does look good when it curls like that.” Hank reached up and gave a light tug to one of the errant curls that was twisting onto Connor's forehead. To Hank, the entire conversation was unnecessary and borderline stupid but he had to remember that a lot of these feelings Connor had, though uncomfortable for most, were the first he was experiencing. A equation he could handle but processing his emotions required a new level of complex thought that had never been used. Like Connor, Hank would have a new series of things to learn such as patience and understanding and for a man like him, it was certain to be difficult.

“I like my hair like this,” Connor said with a smile, “I like how it curls. Is there a way to keep it this way? It's not in my settings that can be changed but it looks like water and doing this helps.” He demonstrated what he had done in the bathroom with his fingers. Hank was the last to ask about this; he washed his hair and threw it up with a band and hoped for the best. If necessary, he'd take Connor to a stylist because if it made Connor feel like an individual, like his own person, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

“I'm sure there's a way it can be done.”

Connor remained silent about the RK900 during their working hours, not wanting to worry Hank or dwell on it himself. In fact, all he wanted was to forget that the other existed in hopes that he would never resurface. This was a heavy doubt but it was the only thing keeping him calm. The idea must have been obvious for Hank would check on him often, ask him if something was on his mind whenever his LED shifted, and worried looks would appear when Connor would only hold his coin and not do any tricks with it.

Sitting outside on the porch, which quickly became a nightly custom of theirs during the warm summer weather, Hank decided that enough was enough and breached the silence Connor was forcing.

“A'right this is enough. What happened today? How did you get hurt? And why you bein' so tight lipped about it?” Connor used Sumo as a distraction, pulling the dog's heavy head onto his lap so he could pet him and hopefully draw Hank's attention elsewhere. It didn't work but at least he'd have the comfort of a big furry head to calm him as he spoke.

“I discovered another RK unit, one above myself. He looked just like me,” Hank didn't need to hear more but listened as Connor explained himself, “He... got aggressive when I chased him. It was my fault, I should have left him alone. I didn't think what seeing another RK android would do. It's not like our model is exactly rare, Markus is an RK but an older version. What bothered me was that he was a higher version than myself, intended to take over if I failed my mission. And though I did fail, nothing came of him. He had his programming to find deviants and figure out what was happening but they expelled him into freedom. I feel sorry for him.”

“Why?” Hank wasn't asking as a means of being confrontational but as a way for Connor to speak out his feelings. Stupid therapist had done that to him enough times, the least he could do was use her bullshit on someone else and maybe help them feel better, too.

“He has no outlet for his new emotions, save for violent confrontations. Regardless of how I had approached him, he was designed just as I was and now is roaming the streets of Detroit without meaning. What's worse is he's not the only one. Many androids are feeling this and have no one to assist and no way to express. I've been very lucky. I have you, a job, and the makings of a life. But the idea that I am just like them and I have nothing that distinguishes me from those... it scared me.” Connor suddenly stood up, Sumo dropping from his lap with a hairy thud.

“Humans are all unique. All of you are. There are strange instances where twins, triplets, and so on occur but for the most part, you are all your own individual beings. Even if you look somewhat alike, your minds all flow in their own way. Androids were mass produced, we weren't meant to be different. Our programming was based on what our intended purpose was with no variation. Our deviancy is what makes us different but that's only inside, not outside. It's superficial to care so much that I saw my face walking down the streets of Detroit but it did! It bothered me so much because it reminded me that I am nothing more than one of many prototypes, final designs, and scraps tossed to the wayside. Nothing makes me different from that RK900 except my serial number.” His back was facing Hank for he couldn't look at him, not with such an outburst on his shoulders. All of these feelings and thoughts about the subject were but frivolous nothings that, at the end of the day, meant nothing at all. He was well aware at how ridiculous he sounded over these feelings but like anyone else, he had a right to express them as openly and freely. To his surprise, Hank remained quiet during it all and Sumo paced around his legs as he stood. Moments passed, Connor returned to maneuvering the coin over his hand like he always had. Something had changed in him and saying it aloud as he had did something for him as well. Another moment, another second of clarity.

“Deactivate your skin.” Hank said firmly from behind him. Connor froze, letting the coin fall from his hand and land face down in the grass. To ensure that he heard correctly, he turned to face Hank dead on.

“What?”

“Deactivate your skin. You wanna look different? Turn off what makes you look the same. I ain't seen a single android yet go around without their skin though they all can do it. Go on now.” Hank had no idea if what he was saying was proving his point but now sheer curiosity overcame him. He'd never seen Connor without his skin and the idea intrigued him. With hesitation but also trust, Connor closed his eyes and allowed his programming to remove any trace that he was similar to anyone else. But once gone, he couldn't open his eyes. He couldn't stand thinking that he was now a blank slate without any identity at all.

“I don't like this.” The scared whisper left him and he felt arms encircle him, protecting him from himself.

“I know. I'm sorry, you can put your skin back on. But don't let somethin' like this ever make you think you ain't special, that you ain't unique. There may be thousands of androids, but I know for a fuckin' fact there's only one Connor.” As Connor's skin returned to the surface, he hid his face into Hank's neck, not wanting to move. Hank noted how as it came back, it felt warm, like the outside of a computer case that'd been on too long. Familiar but not unpleasant as long as it still worked. As long as Connor was still working properly, this heat was acceptable.

They broke the hug and Connor was back to normal, though he seemed to have the heavy thought remain weighing him down. Hank hated how much his partner had to think about such things so often but that was how it would be; Connor was experiencing everything for the first time and a lot of it wasn't going to be easy. With a caring smile, Hank put his hand on Connor's jaw and shook his head.

“Bein' alive is a scary thing, isn't it? But you're doin' alright. It's gonna get easier, better, and y'gonna find out how good it all is. I know that sounds like a load of bullshit comin' from someone like me but it took me a year in th'makin to get here to this point. We're gonna have bad days. But we got each other right? We got the dumb dog and this old house and work. It ain't much, but it's somethin' and it's somethin' that makes us, us.” He hadn't realized that halfway through his speech he began encouraging himself as well but Connor didn't seem to mind though it was hard to tell; his eyes were down and Hank's hand kept him still. The last thing he wanted was to monopolize the conversation and make it about himself and not about Connor's feelings. Maybe it would help, maybe not, but either way he'd still be there to help him regardless of what emotion he'd have afterwards.

“No other RK unit has Sumo. No other has this house, has this job, has this life. No other has you. That is how I am unique.” Connor's hand, skinless once again, covered Hank's on his cheek. Hank grew worried that his hand was without its covering but Connor didn't seem upset any longer; in fact he seemed at peace for the first time that day. Why his hand had the pale, metallic white of his case was a mystery but he didn't want to ruin the moment by making mention of it. Stranger still was the pale glow coming from it, that of which made Connor remove his hand quickly and put it behind his back. His LED was glowing a fierce red and remained like that as Connor moved past Hank to return inside the house. Nothing more was said but the curiosity only grew and grew from Hank's viewpoint. It was an android thing, something he'd one day understand as long as he paid attention but for now, Connor was feeling better and that's what mattered.

At least, that's what he thought. He had remained outside when Connor left, embarrassed and shocked at his own body's reaction. From what he had seen with Markus and North to the eventual Markus and Simon moments, the loss of skin when intimate was a mechanism androids did to get as close to the other as possible. When he had converted the newer AK700 models from the CyberLife building last November, he had deactivated the skin of his hand to reach them and free them. It was the purest form of communication for androids, as well as connection. Intimate.

Subconsciously he had done the same to Hank for no other reason than wanting that connection. Hank could not receive the signals he wanted to send so it remained one sided but that was for the best. The signal he sent was unintentional and embarrassing to explain. How could he begin to tell his friend that he had removed his skin so he could try and feel even closer to the man?

How could he even think to tell Hank that he wanted to be as close as physically possible when Connor wasn't even sure what all that entailed?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the last time we'll see RK900 roaming around the roads of Detroit? I don't know yet! It may, it may not be. I have some ideas but we'll see if it'll go into the flow of the story.  
> I want to say a gigantic, enormous THANK YOU for everyone leaving comments and kudos and bookmarking the story! It absolutely made my weekend. I was out and about with my husband on a mini vacation but seeing the e-mails telling me that someone left a comment just added to the whole thing! It was so lovely.  
> I won't lie though, the next chapter may not be for a little bit. I'm working on redoing my webcomic and that's going to require a little work on my part so writing may only be once in awhile. I'm hoping for no longer than a week or two at max but it's hard to say when I'll have more time.  
> The next chapter is going to be a doozy though as we will be running head first into a new element Connor hasn't really worked with before: Jealousy.  
> Thank you all again and please keep commenting and leaving kudos! It really does keep me going!


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